


What a Lovely Day to Die

by MrsSaxon



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Honestly if you watched the movie, I can't imagine I'm writing anything that would upset you overmuch, It is now, Largely implied though, Not sure I'd call it graphic though, Nux Lives, Nux eats live things, Nux whump, Nux/Capable eventually I promise, Some depictions of pain, Survival, This is basically a one character fic, but just in case, depiction of animals being eaten, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/pseuds/MrsSaxon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the title, Nux lives. And makes the long journey home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nux should have died at least 4 times before in the movie. I am not at all convinced he is dead. So I took it upon myself to write the long journey of Nux's way home, starting from the crash of Furiosa's rig in the canyon. I have only seen the film once 2 days ago, so my memory of fine details is going to be shaky, please correct me if you feel the need. 
> 
> There is/will be Nux/Capable eventually, but very PG as this is literally the beginning of their relationship. 
> 
> Uh, warning: character death? I am accepting Slit as dead so my apologies to the Slit fans.

Nux opened his eyes. That was unexpected. Walhalla refused to take him again. He was beginning to think Walhalla might not even want him. But that might be alright, if he could talk with Capable some more.

His arm felt funny. He’d felt this before. “Dislocated” the doctor had said; it had to be snapped back in place. It had hurt a lot. He lifted his head and looked around. Rigs were still burning, he hadn’t been out for very long then. There was no sign of Furiosa and the others. He hoped they had gotten away. He still hoped, even after all this.

The war rig, though, Furiosa’s beautiful truck, lay smashed between him and freedom. His leg was trapped under the door. And now that he was regaining consciousness, he could feel it.

“Ahhh!” He looked down and saw dark blood oozing from his ankle. This was bad. No doctor and no blood bag around to replenish him. First thing though was get free. Looking around, he grabbed the remains of a pole. There was no way he could shift the immense weight of the machine, so he hoped wedging his foot out was the next best option.

Shoving the pole down to his foot, he tried to maneuver it between the door and the ground to lever the pressure off of his foot. As he did so though, all the crushing his foot had received suddenly came to life, bleeding and screaming in pain.

Nux winced hard, but refused to let go of his grip. He continued to put pressure on the pole and urge his foot out of the sticky mess. It came, slowly. It hurt so much, like being branded, only this time it wouldn’t stop. The pain just kept going on and on forever. On second thoughts, he wished Walhalla had just taken him.

At last, his foot was free, and he scrambled away from the once shiny, shiny rig. His eyes watered and he rubbed them hard, not wanting to encourage the pain. Breathing hard through his teeth, he surveyed the damage. His foot was twice its normal size and purple, his ankle badly cut. His big toe was bent to one side and he didn’t dare try to move it back yet. Yes, this was certainly a bang up. Slit was going to confiscate his… no. Slit would not.

Nux looked out to the horizon. He was close to the mouth of the canyon, but just like the blood bag had promised, it was caved in. That meant either shambling up the loose rocks or climbing around it on the cliff’s edge. Neither seemed like a lovely option. But it was move forward or die here. Nux knew which he’d rather be doing.

First thing’s first then: supplies. Looking around, he searched for clothes, water, guzzoline. He didn’t want to come back to the citadel empty handed after all. Clothes were the easiest to find, lots of bodies to search. He ripped up most of it to tie around his cuts and broken foot, padding it as best he could. Then for some boots, boots… He found Rictus, surprised that the strongest of Joe’s sons would be in Walhalla already. But with Rictus’ big feet, he had just the right size boot for Nux’s broken foot. And after all, he wouldn’t need it now, would he?

He passed a clump of ugly, desiccated flesh attached to something metallic, chrome... He peered closer at it, poked it, and turned it over. He gasped, stepping back accidentally on his hurt foot. After the blinding pain passed, he looked again at the mask of Immortan Joe and quietly saluted it. “Glad to see Furiosa got you before you got her,” he grinned. Furiosa was a lot nicer about second chances than Joe was.

He raided a few more bodies and packed together a bundle of clothes for the nightfall. He grabbed a few guns, taking the two with the most bullets in them. He didn’t have time to search for refills, the sun was already starting to go down. No luck on water or food. But he did manage to snatch a long, black thing with lots of legs. Very crunchy. It would have to do until he found more.

Gingerly, he began to hoist himself onto the first ledge of the cliff. It was slow going because his left arm was barely usable and his right foot could do nothing but be dragged along. By the time he had made it to the edge of the first ledge to move on to the second, it was almost too dark to see. Groaning in misery, he looked out at the flat expanse of wasteland he still had yet to cross before he reached the citadel. He could just see it, just a shadowy outline as the last of the light faded. It would take days, perhaps a week to get there like this.

He had to think of something, to move faster. Perhaps one of the bikes… but no, he could never drag it up over the canyon wall. Cutting off his foot would only leave him with a bloody stump, so that wasn’t the answer. He had to try popping his arm back in himself. He looked for a likely place to fall, somewhere flat and even and not too close to the edge where he could let gravity put his arm back in for him. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let himself fall to the side. “O-ow,” he winced, but no pop, no crack of bones. He tried again. And again. And again. And continued to put together quite an assortment of bruises on his left arm before the night was out.

Sometime late, just before the sky turned from black with twinkly lights in it… stars Dag had called them. Yes, before the sky with stars started to turn light again, he finally heard that pop. And the pain shooting from his shoulder confirmed that he’d done it. Frankly, he couldn’t muster the strength to feel pleased with himself at the moment and as soon as the pain stopped, he fell dead asleep.


	2. Day 2

The sun was high by the time Nux awoke the next morning. Pain and exhaustion had kept him asleep for so long. At least there had been no night terrors. Or if there had been, he couldn’t remember them. Either way, he took this as a good sign. More hope.

Rolling over, he prepared to stand. He felt so dizzy just from raising half his body, he had to stop. His arms felt weak, but he was sure that would pass. Looking down at his foot, he was glad to see the bleeding had completely stopped, but it was still swollen and very, very painful. It had grown somehow even bigger, pressing against the sides of the boot, but thankfully padded to prevent any further damage. The swelling had made his leg so stiff he wasn’t sure he could stand on it, let alone drag himself over a canyon wall and then across the wasteland.

But it wasn’t like there was a choice.

Regulating his breathing, like the doctor had told him to do when Barry and Larry were acting up, he stood fully this time and squinted out onto the horizon. Just as bleak and looming as yesterday, but now with the added benefit of sun glare smarting off it. Picking up his bundle of rags and clothes, he began to trudge forward.

Climbing onto the second ledge was so much easier with both arms working. And he could take more pressure off his broken foot now, balancing himself on the strength of his arms instead. He was halfway across the ledge and making good time when he realized how hungry he was. He felt so tired and so hungry. The blood bag…

Nux suddenly realized that the blood bag must have a name. He’d never bothered to find out. Well, he’d do that first thing when he got back. And thank him for his excellent blood. His blood had kept him going these past few days. But now even the energy in his blood was worn out. And Nux knew that Barry and Larry were going to be much harder to deal with without any food.

He squinted around the ledge, but there was nothing moving. He looked up, hoping a beetle or something would be crawling around in the cracks. Nothing. Just sun and heat and rocks. Sighing, Nux continued to move forward, keeping his eyes on the canyon block and the wasteland beyond it. He wanted to reach the entrance today, or he would never make it to the citadel.

Onto the third ledge, and the sun was only now starting to get low. Very good time indeed. Walhalla could wait just a bit longer for him, Nux wasn’t leaving any time soon. The canyon mouth was right in front of him now, he could almost touch it. But should he try to climb over it in the dark or wait until morning? Nux still didn’t think it was lovely going over the wall with his bum foot, but he hadn’t considered if it would be any worse in the dark. Unable to see where he was going with only one foot able to sense shifting ground? No, he would wait here until morning. And hope food flew into his mouth.

His pace was becoming sluggish as hunger gnawed at him. And Barry and Larry were awake now and throbbing for his attention. He collapsed at the end of the final ledge. No water, no food… no, he shouldn’t think about it. Get addicted to water and you resent its absence. Same for all things. If he could just think about something else, the hunger wouldn’t ache so bad. He unpacked his bundle and wrapped himself in jackets, preparing to sleep as the sun sank over the horizon and the sky turned from purple to indigo to dark.

Closing his eyes, he thought about the green place Furiosa and the Many Mothers had talked about. There was green, high above the citadel, where they got food from. Was the green place like that? Full of things to eat? No, now he was thinking about food and hunger again.

He focused on something else. He wondered what the citadel was like now. He assumed the blood bag and Furiosa had taken Joe’s body there and proved his death. He hoped they were safe now, that they had been accepted as the new leaders. He hoped all the wives were safe, Toast and Cheedo and the Dag and Capable. He hoped most to see Capable again. He hoped she would still want to see him now that she was free. Nux had never been very spectacular as a war boy, most of the time he was too sick to go on war. He couldn’t imagine she would want anything to do with him once she realized there were fitter, stronger, healthier boys out there.

Still, she was shiny. She was so chrome. And she had been close to him and he to her and that had been shiny too. That was good to think about. Maybe he’d fall asleep thinking about that.

He didn’t feel as if he had slept very long when he woke up. He squinted at the sky, it wasn’t yet blue. It was still in its indigo stages with stars on the edges of his vision. It was so cold though. That must have been what had woken him up. He rolled over and pulled the coats tighter around him. Nux closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, remembering how warm he’d been sleeping next to Capable…


	3. Day 3

When he woke again, the sky was proper blue and he couldn’t cling to dreams when there was so far he had still to go. Sitting up, he yawned and rubbed his eyes. He’d be glad when he saw a bed again. His stomach reminded him promptly that it was empty. “Mmm… food,” he grumbled, shrugging on a jacket to insulate himself against the low blood sugar. What he wouldn’t give for some of that blood bag’s fluids right now. Just a little, just to get him over the canyon wall.

He stood up and looked grimly at the remaining obstacle. It wasn’t the getting over part that would be difficult, he was high enough now to simply reach across onto it, it was the getting down. Stiffly, he stepped forward, wincing as his broken foot scraped the ground. At least the pain had subsided to a dull throb now, much easier to bear.

Nearby, there was a clatter and a scuffle. Nux froze, suddenly very awake at the promising sound of food. Behind a rock, he found another long black thing and a beetle. Snatching them, he crunched them up and ate them eagerly. He picked up the rock they’d been behind, hoping for something else tasty and lovely hiding underneath, but all was bare. He sighed, put out, and chucked the rock over the edge of the cliff petulantly. Food was his next goal after scaling the cave in. And water. Or something to replace it, he felt so thirsty.

Summoning the temerity that had always got him into trouble, he pushed his exhaustion aside and struggled forward to the cave in. Reaching it, he looked for a likely spot to start climbing. The last thing he needed was to start a rock slide so wherever he put his weight he had to be sure the rocks would take it before he put pressure on it. He pressed a hand against a large rock in front of his face. It didn’t move. Gingerly, he brushed a nearby rock with his right foot, but it was no good. He couldn’t put any weight on that foot to test the rock’s stability. Awkwardly, he shifted so his left foot could try it. Unfortunately, this rock budged. He tried another, further away. Better.

Picking his position, he began to climb. “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed as his broken foot scraped and banged against the rocks as he hauled himself up. Desperate to get away from the pain, he forced his arms to reach as far as they could and pull the rest of his body up with him. At peak condition, he might have scaled this wall in a matter of minutes, but after all he’d been through, his arms were burning after a few seconds. He stopped and panted hard, glad he could look out over the top of the rocks. Already, the citadel looked closer, blurry through the heatwaves, but standing proud and vigilant in the distance. He would make it home. He had to.

That was a long enough break. Now came the tricky bit: swinging his injured leg over the top of the wall without the rocks crumbling beneath him. He stepped up as high as he could to make things easier on himself, but there was a large sheer boulder preventing him from getting an easy foothold. Taking a deep breath, he thrust his abdomen over the top of the rocks and squirmed, trying to pull his leg over. Some of the rocks started shaking and rattling in response to his squirming. This was what he was afraid of.

He halted to see if he needed to get down in a hurry. The shaking stopped, the dust settled. Nothing fell. Deciding to proceed, but more cautiously, Nux risked pushing himself just a little further over the edge, hoping his center of gravity would gently drop him off on the other side. Unfortunately this meant angling himself head first down the opposing slope. If anyone were around, they’d immediately start laughing at poor old Nux, got himself stuck in yet another catch. He swallowed his embarrassment and focused on the more imminent problem of getting over while not cracking his head on something.

Carefully, very carefully, he looked for a rock he could hold onto while he pulled the right half of his body over the top. If he did this successfully, he wouldn’t have to stand on his broken foot and he could make it down the other side safely. If not, then at least no one would have to see his ultimate foolish demise. Luck was on his side though, a very stuck looking rock was jutting out where he could grab it and, using his other hand to brace himself, he swung his right leg over.

“Woo!” he let himself breathe and allowed himself a moment of exhilaration to have not died pulling that stunt. He tried to sit up to admire the view, but banged his head on the ledge above him. “Ow…” he winced, rubbing his head. Figures the swelling of pride wouldn’t last.

And now came the second tricky part, hoping the cliff didn’t just throw him off when he swung his other leg over the other side to get down. Being unable to sit up fully made this doubly difficult. He gulped and leaned back against the rocks to give his leg as much room as possible to swing over. Staring up at the granite above, Nux mumbled a quick “Witness me,” as he brought his leg up over the crest and then very tightly maneuvered it onto the other side. He let out a breath, so far so good. But he wasn’t standing on anything yet, merely clinging to the rocks, literally, by the seat of his pants.

In the back of his mind, Nux compared the suspense of this moment to hitching onto the back of Furiosa’s rig as it thundered across the wasteland and was quite sure he’d rather be back on the rig with a fair chance of being run over by ten tons of rolling steel.

Unable to see much of where his feet were, he tentatively scraped around with his good foot, searching for a foot hold wide enough to hold him while he found hand holds. The first sweep revealed minimal results: sheer rock face with crumbling debris scattered to the breeze. Gulping, he reached his hands onto the base of the rock holding him, gripping it as best he could, and extended his weight downward, praying there would be a catch if he started to slide.

The law of evens won out and a secure foot hold presented itself just as his pants and seat began to part company. Pushing all his weight onto his left foot, he swung off his perch to face the rock wall, grabbing the first hand holds he could find. Nux panted heavily, puffing deep lung-fulls of air against the dusty surface. He didn’t care if it made him sneeze, he was on his way home, at last. All he had to do now was not drop to his death and at least here he had gravity helping him find his holds.

Swallowing, Nux began the long climb down. It was treacherous, scraping along for the slightest grab spot, avoiding putting pressure on an already mangled foot, but Nux kept thinking about all he had already been through. He’d been to war, made friends, helped save them from a terrible fate. He’d faced bullets, explosions, dust storms. No amount of fatigue or heat or gravity would stop him seeing this through. Climbing down was child’s play; it was falling in stop-motion. Even he couldn’t screw this up.

The sun was setting now and its unbroken light shone hard on his back. Sweat was beginning to make his grip slippery. And it wasn’t as though 2 days of not eating wasn’t taking its toll on his muscles. Nux glanced anxiously at the ground. Too far to fall yet. Perhaps if he wasn’t already injured, but he wouldn’t risk it now.

He began to wheeze as he searched for hand and foot holds, they were getting harder to come by the closer he got to the ground. His fingers were red and his palms stung from digging into the harsh rocks all the time. If he could just rest a bit… no! He slipped! Nux sacrificed the skin from his palms and knees to stop himself. He lowered himself onto the next foot hold with a groan. Why couldn’t this be over already? Why couldn’t he just be home already?

Again, he looked to the ground. As soon as he reached it he could rest. As soon as he felt solid earth beneath him again, he could recover. The longer he stayed here, fighting to cling to the surface of the rocks, the greater his chance of falling became. He didn’t like the idea, but he was too tired to keep this up much longer. Gingerly, he set the heel of his broken foot down to the next foot hold, making it take his weight as he passed down. He hissed, the slightest movement of his broken bones set them on fire with pain. But he would move so much faster now and the ground was just there, twenty, ten feet now.

A few more hasty steps and Nux shimmied down the slide in one piece. As soon as he hit the ground, his legs gave out under him. He didn’t care, he would just lay there and rest for a moment. It was done. It was all over. There was only the walk now.

Nux felt himself shaking as his sweat cooled on his skin. He untucked the bundle of clothes he’d brought with him and pulled out the two guns from where he’d strapped them to his body. Putting them aside, he slowly unwrapped the musty, stained clothes. His eyes would barely open, the exhaustion was too much. It didn’t matter though, he didn’t need to see to lay the clothes over himself and go to sleep. He didn’t need anything for that.


	4. Day 4 - Part 1

Tonight, the exhaustion wasn’t enough to beat the night terrors. Nux woke up in a panic, “the dogs are coming to get me!” he gasped, staring blindly into the night with a hand at his throat. He was sure the thing had gone for his throat, that it was squeezing the life out of him. He gulped and started to relax. No bite marks, no blood, nothing but the quiet, empty night surrounding him. He wheezed and choked as he breathed slowly and wondered if Barry and Larry were giving him these dreams. Perhaps they were mad at him for not giving them any attention lately.

Recovering his breath after a few gasps, he traced the unfriendly tumors on his shoulder. He had no doubt his breathing was thin because of them. “Couldn’t you two give me a break until I get back? Then I’ll go straight back to bed, I promise. No more war larks for a good long while,” he murmured, trying to placate them.

Absently, Nux drew his knees up close to his chest and began rubbing his shins. They were icy. Unfolding one of the badly wrinkled jackets, he put it on and then another, buttoning and zipping whatever could be buttoned or zipped. He stared out into the dark, however, straining to see the citadel. The stars were still out and the moon was glimmering in that enticing way, but the citadel was too far off to make out in the dark. He just had to trust that it was there. Just like he had to trust that food would be there the next day or other people were alive even when he couldn’t see them.

Nux kept rubbing his legs and set his chin down on his knees. After he had a good long sleep and took lots of chemo to stop Barry and Larry giving him aches, he would like some company. Maybe he’d be allowed to walk around the citadel. He could talk with Capable and the others. Maybe they’d come see him at his bedside if he wasn’t allowed to move. It was so lonely sitting inside attached to blood bags all the time. The other war boys all got to have fun building cars or going on war or running errands for Joe. No one spared much time for an invalid who couldn’t fight or build like the rest of them.

As soon as his body started to feel alive again, a wave of fatigue overcame him and his thoughts came slower and slower, disconnected. His limbs settled back to the ground and begged for sleep. Nux struggled to remember what he’d been thinking about a second ago. It might have been important, it probably wasn’t, but he had such thoughts to think and if just… someone… would listen…

When Nux woke again, he didn’t open his eyes. Everything hurt. Everything everywhere hurt from yesterday’s big gamble on life and he had no desire to move or even acknowledge that he’d won the bet. His hunger had turned from an ache to a sharp, sticking pain, like needles. He’d had so many in him he didn’t flinch anymore, barely winced, but nothing gave him quite the sweeping sensation of despair like the sight of a needle. The hunger was that acute, focused pain of a needle slicing into a vein.

The primal need for food would not be ignored though. It forced him to open his eyes and squint into the desert landscape for food, any food, anything he could put in his mouth and swallow. At this point, that was asking for something because he was so parched he wasn’t sure swallowing was going to be all that easy.

Nux spied some dry brush not too far away. It was brown and dead but it was the closest to food he was likely to find. He pushed an arm out toward it and was disturbed to see how much effort it took. Hoping his arms were just slow to wake up, he tried lifting his head and the sudden vertigo it caused sent him back into the dirt. Nux spluttered and coughed the red dust away. On his worst days of chemo, he hadn’t been this weak. And he still had miles to go before he slept again.

Even so, there was nothing for him but the trudge. He tried again, pulling his head up and refusing to let the swimming feeling put him back in the dirt. He crawled forward toward the brush, dragging his legs behind him. His broken foot did not accept this as a means of transportation and he had to stop halfway there because the pain was too much. He rolled over, seizing up in the pain, gasping until it stopped. He’d have to lift his foot then as he inched to the food. When he’d worked up the strength to do it, he rolled back over and, raising his right foot where it couldn’t feel any friction, he at last grasped the desert grass and took huge mouthfuls of it. It tasted more like dirt than the dirt did. His dry mouth could only summon a little saliva so it felt like chewing sandpaper, the grit grinding unpleasantly against his teeth. But somehow he managed to swallow and take another mouthful until it was all gone.

The bare leaves did hardly anything to settle his stomach, but psychologically at least, it was helping. He felt more invigorated and determined to tackle Fury Road on foot. Nux looked back at where he’d been sleeping, preparing to get up and collect his odds and ends. The guns were still right where he’d left them and the clothes were a misshapen shadow of dirt and cloth. Was there…? He blinked, he thought for a moment he saw something move, but it was probably just hunger making him- no! There it was again!

Nux lurched to his feet, the light in his eyes sending a shock to his system. He had to close them hard, but he hobbled forward, he couldn’t let this get away. When he could feel the shadow of the canyon on his skin, he opened his eyes and kicked into the clothes. There! A big fuzzy spider flew out and scuttled across the sand. Nux pounced on it, grabbing it by its thick torso and ripping out its fangs the next second. He ignored its hisses and screams of pain and bit its head off in the next second.

The hair all over it triggered his gag reflex, but he forced himself to keep his mouth closed and chew. The eyes squelched unpleasantly as his teeth sank into them. Mercifully though, the adrenaline rush had caused his mouth to salivate and the added moisture from the spider’s juices meant he could swallow the pulp of protein with ease. He tore off each limb and chewed it with relish. It would have been much tastier if he had a fire to roast it on, he thought after the murderous desire for survival passed. But he ate every bite of it, not leaving a hair or trace of gossamer, and was grateful for the meal. The spider must have been scared up from all the commotion and destruction around its home. Chewing his lips, he wondered if he could stay and scout around for its hiding place. There might be babies or a mate living close by

As soon as he thought it, his focus turned sharply back to the citadel, glinting in the sunlight, and he knew he couldn’t waste time even for the opportunity of food. He had to make it as far as he could as quickly as he could before his energy dropped off again. With a sigh and a disappointed drop in his stomach, he gathered his clothes and stowed the two guns back in his belt and began the march toward the citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add my thanks here ^^; It's been very encouraging to come back every day and see more kudos left on this, so I wanted to thank each and every one of you, anonymous or not, for taking the time to send a little appreciation my way. It means a lot and it helps me keep writing.
> 
> So don't be shy to comment, even if it's just to ask what happens next or when it will be up c:
> 
> (Also, chapter lengths??? What even are those?)


	5. Day 4 - Part 2

As Nux trudged, he was reminded why Immortan Joe and the war boys venerated cars. Walking down the Fury Road was appallingly slow. It wasn’t so much a fury right now as slow-boiling frustration. He kept moving forward, limping off his injured foot, and the citadel seemed to be in the same place it always was, distant, but clearly visible. Even his surroundings didn’t seem to pass by him so much as linger by his side. Not that there was much to pass, no patches of brush or people or those tall things that stood by themselves… what had Capable called them? Trees, no trees here. What were trees anyway?

Out in the bog, the tree appeared solid, like rock, but the pulling of the rig, rather than breaking and crumbling it, had dragged it out of the ground. He hadn’t even realized parts of it were under the ground, many parts of it, long, winding bits like veins or the tubes on an engine. It was like that at the top too, lots of tubes coming out of it, but much thicker and less bendy than the ones at the bottom. Some of the tubes were hollow, some were solid, perhaps the hollow ones captured food somehow. He couldn’t think of why else something would have hollow caverns like that. He must ask Capable what trees were for when he got back.

Thinking so hard helped him feel like time was passing. He must have moved quite far by now. Nux looked up and was disappointed to see the citadel had not gotten any closer. If anything, it might even be farther away somehow! He must have veered slightly as he walked. Fury Road, after all, was only truly visible when a caravan was passing on it. The desert wasteland was keen to leave no mark of human touch on it. Trying to set his feet more determinedly, he aimed dead for the citadel and concentrated on the ground in front of him to make sure he did not wander.

He swallowed, painfully, and rubbed at his tumors. “I’m going home,” he murmured hoarsely, “I’m headed there just now and I can’t get there if you won’t let me breathe.” His windpipe wheezed air, constricted by the exertion he was putting himself through. Nux was beginning to sweat as the sun poured down the back of his neck and shoulders, hitting him everywhere exposed.

Nux hadn’t considered how powerful the sun alone really was before. As he pressed on through the dry and shade-less landscape, he quickly became uncomfortable carrying the clothes and even wearing any. It was like his dark, sturdy pants were attracting heat. Nux wiped his brow as sweat threatened to drip into his eyes. The sight of water on his fingertips presented him the nauseous notion that with so little water to spare, the sun was making him leak important reserves. He quickly sucked the water from his fingertips, trying to reabsorb what he was losing.

Soon he regretted it though as the salt content only made him thirstier. What an unforgiving place this was. And another reason to wish for a car that shielded you from the heat and moved fast enough to produce wind. Nux would give anything for a car right now, for its speed and protection. Cars were chrome all the way around and every car he’d touched had been shiny miraculous.

But cars were for war boys who could actually fight and go on war and make supply runs; they were not for weak, sick things like him. War boys had to guard the caravans in heat and sun like this every day. No wonder they resented someone like him who sat in cool, dark rooms all day.

They would not envy him long if they knew how bitter, friendless, and weak those long, cancerous hours of treatment were. Many of them carried a variety of diseases and ailments themselves. Many of them had been under the needle. And all of them had needed a blood bag for transfusions, even if it was just to compensate for wounds sustained on war. But they were all well enough, able enough, strong enough to get up and go out the next day. Boys much younger than Nux had been on more assignments than he had. Boys much younger than Nux had seen the doors of Walhalla already.

Nux was a failure. In his heart, he knew that was why Walhalla would not take him. He was so weak that some days he could not leave his bed. Everyone thought he was lazy, he knew it. Everyone thought he exaggerated to get out of work. No one believed how much of his body the cancer ate away. No one believed how badly he wanted to work, to gain glory, to be of use to the citadel.

It was hard, trying to prove himself between the tubes and syringes and hours of unconsciousness. When he felt well enough, he was the fastest at making parts. He ran errands like there was a dust storm on his heels. He scrubbed and cleaned whatever he was told, even though he didn’t like it much. But it wasn’t enough. Because as good and dedicated as he was, he wasn’t reliable. His body would betray him the next day, the next week, the next hour.

And his sickness meant he had little experience. War boy training started very young, Nux and Slit had come into it a little late in fact. They had come from somewhere… far away, he didn’t have any memories of that place, but Slit told him that their mother had traveled with them across the deserts to arrive here. Nux could barely remember his mother either and Slit never gave much time trying to paint her for him. On the other hand, Nux had never really asked to know either. Nux could tell that Slit was slightly ashamed of having a good for nothing younger brother. So Nux tried to bother him as little as possible. Slit, like the other war boys, had an aggressive streak that was irked whenever he was in any way challenged.

Of course, when Nux was older and had spent all his healthy time training himself, he liked challenging Slit occasionally, to test himself. To see how he measured up against a real war boy. He was always pleased that he beat Slit enough to remind him he was not completely useless. Now though, Slit was in Walhalla of course and he was still here. It was hard to take comfort in the memories of their rivalry when Slit had all the glory he could ever want and Nux was rejected.

Nux swallowed the growing feeling of dejection and tried to turn his thoughts to other things. He laid a palm to the back of his neck and wiped away the sweat. His skin felt hot, burning now. Looking down at his arms, he realized he’d been outside so long the white paint that had covered him was flaking off. Underneath was pale, pink skin and blue veins. At least most people didn’t see how sick Nux looked. That was one good thing about being a war boy, equality of looks. You all became brothers because you all looked alike.

He looked up toward the citadel and a horrific thought struck him. Without the paint, was he even a war boy anymore? Was he anything? Could he go back to being ‘Nux, the invalid war boy’ after this journey? He had never asked himself that before. But then he’d never been anything else before either. Nux looked back down at his hands, at the skin showing where the paint was gone. Perhaps he wasn’t a war boy anymore. But maybe he could be something more.

He remembered Furiosa, her black mask gone, her one arm bare to be seen, and she had been more than Imperator then. She had accepted him, despite all he had done to recapture her, and trusted him to drive her rig. Furiosa was no longer Imperator. But she would always be Furiosa, in whatever she did. That gave him hope. Nux could still be Nux, even if he wasn’t a war boy anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, this was supposed to be only a 2-parter, but it just keeps getting longer and longer. And I know there's been something of a delay, so rather than have you think I'd forgotten about this, I wanted to update with something. I hope some of you are still reading.


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